It is eight years since Carole left and we have to find her. First we have to get back to our home in Germany, but what a mess we go through. We must get across the Polish Corridor and then still so far, with everything miserable and broken. People die on the platform just waiting for the train;

Fifty-two dead. Fifty-two dead from one family. How can this happen? The number! 52! And it’s thousands, millions when you put us all together. Cities of dead. Families of dead. Unborn children. Fifty-two dead in my family, their not-breath filling the wind that cuts my cheek, not-lit candles at holiday dinners, non-hugs from grandmas and [...]

My America echoes with the voices of my family, the old immigrant neighborhoods my Father remembered, the characters who lived there, newcomers, natives and children like me. I ran across some of them in the great hall at Ellis Island. I listened for frightened whispers and halting speech in the examining rooms. I heard mutters, [...]

I traveled thousands of miles to stand here in the snow and the cold where my Grandmother and her younger daughter, Eva, found one another in 1944, after eighteen months of heartbreaking separation, amongst thousands of women penned by barbed wire into two groups, awaiting role call.